The Legate moved quickly to the top of the stairs and called after Vennel, 'Any slave you find beyond the door, Great One, will be able to guide you to your chambers.'
'You should go too, Carnelian,' said Suth, 'to make sure the household is set in order for my coming.'
Carnelian stood looking at him, resenting the dismissal, but he could think of no way to defy it.
'As my Lord commands,' he said and put on his mask.
From the platform's brink the steps looked perilously steep. He gazed out across the cavernous space. The lanterns on the floor were undulating bands of light over the walls. He could see the raised walkways that led to the door, and the audience pits on either side. He began descending.
When he reached the foot of the stairway he looked back up but he could see nothing of the Masters, only the window's glow. The murmur of their talk was like the rumble of a distant storm.
Up ahead, Vennel was passing under one of the tower lanterns. Sections of its shaft moved round, turning its rays like spokes. Carnelian began to follow him along the walkway on the journey to the door.
In token of his deafening, the slave's ears had been shorn off. The Legate's cypher, a sheaf of reeds, had been cut into the man's face and traditional tattoo-blue had been used to fill the scar channels. He had been loitering with others beyond the door. Carnelian had to show him the chameleon glyphs on the lining of his sleeve to indicate where he wanted to go. The slave's eyes flickered in the swathe of blue stain as they followed Carnelian's hand-speech. He must have understood for he lit a lantern and, cringing, beckoned Carnelian to follow him into the darkness.
Carnelian followed the small figure through a bewildering series of chambers whose frescoed walls gleamed faintly in the dark. After much walking they came to a hall into which fell shafts of red light regularly spaced off into the distance. Along the left-hand wall Carnelian could just see the archways staring blindly with their Lordly warding eyes. Within the nearest archway was a stone door, bronze-riveted, with niches empty on either side, presumably for guardsmen.
Accompanied by echoes, they walked past several doors until they came to one where the crescents of Vennel's banners told of his presence somewhere beyond.
Some men came out from the niches with their sickles. The cypher gashed across their faces made them seem in awful mirth but their real mouths gave a different impression. Carnelian rushed by, even as they began prostrations, relieved to see his own House colours further down the hall.
'Master,' came a cry of relief from up ahead. Then figures came rushing at him, dappled red, their faces becoming familiar in the light of the slave's lantern. His men surrounded him, bobbing, touching the hem of his cloak. They spoke all at once and grinned and frowned alternately.
'Be quiet,' said Carnelian. 'Come on, quieten down. Do you want to embarrass me?'
The life went right out of them. They became so still, it alarmed him. The Legate's slave was gaping slack-eyed. He dismissed him before turning to his men. 'Don't worry, I'm not angry.' Their shoulders had a subservient hunching he did not like. 'Let's get indoors.'
They led him off to an arch and wrestled its door open. Some light spilled through, and something of the familiar smell of home. More of his people shuffled out to welcome him. Carnelian spotted Crail there among them, squinting, searching for something. When their eyes met, the old man's face scrunched up into a crooked frown. Carnelian dropped his mask into his hand and glared at him.
'You were told to stay hidden. Out of harm's way.'
The man scowled at him. Carnelian laughed. He took the old man's head between his hands and kissed it. There was a murmur of approval. The old man's smell was so familiar he wanted to hug him. Instead, he pushed him gently away.
He noticed Keal standing there behind the others, trying to hide uncertainty, and gave him a smile. 'Glad to see that you survived.'
Keal rewarded him with a grin. 'Many times I thought we'd sink.'
There were mutters of assent.
'In the future, let's try and avoid the sea,' Carnelian said.
Many of them beamed and nodded. Keal pushed his way through. The Master?' 'He'll be here soon and sent me ahead. Is everything ready?'
Keal grinned again, pointed at the arch's wards. These are proper Masters' rooms.' He reached out to caress his hand up the jamb, and Carnelian saw where the veined marble had been clumsily painted with the chameleon glyph. 'I did it myself.'
'Neatly done,' said Carnelian, wanting to be kind. He warmed when the other flushed.
Keal indicated the banners, somewhat crumpled from the journey, their poles locked into bronze rings near the door. He reached out tentatively, took Carnelian's arm and drew him through the arch.
The faces inside looked at Carnelian as if he were a fire in winter. Braziers had been lit. The balms the Master preferred were spiralling perfumed smoke up into the vault. Chameleoned blue canopies had been hung up to muffle the echoes. Mosaics had been polished. From somewhere they had managed to get bunches of irises and had sunk their purples and blues in vases of gold.
'It feels like home,' said Carnelian loudly, meaning it, enjoying their smiles. He turned to Keal. 'Where's Tain?'
'He's coming up with the rest of the baggage.' Carnelian nodded. 'Have I a room of my own?'
'Certainly you have, Carnie. I'll show you where it is.'
Keal left him. Malachite patterned the walls with the green of ferns in a dark wood. Smooth doors whispered open with a cinnamon waft. There were several chambers. One had a window paned with alabaster that softly lit a sleeping platform draped with feather blankets. In another, water ran waist high in a channel from which various sinks could be filled. In that chamber the floor was incised with runnels.
Back in the sleeping chamber, Carnelian discovered shutters and folded them back. Warm green-scented air seeped in. The purple vein-oranged sky made his eyes water. He fitted his face into his mask and stepped out onto the balcony. The balustrade was still warm but he dropped the mask when he found that the balcony was deep in shadow. It was an eyrie looking south. Half in shadow, the valley he had seen from the sea stepped its green terraces down from blue distance. Nearer, limes faded into dusty brown. Nearer still, a swathe of mudflats ran to a crisp edge of indigo sea. A causeway curving like the wingbone of a bird crossed the lagoon and wound the road it carried up into the terraces. Here it was already spring.
A sound from the chamber made him go back in. Tain stood by the door, panting, leaning back under the weight of a trunk his arms barely managed to embrace. Ointment boxes hung from cords around his neck. Clothes tubes were strapped to his back like quivers. He gave a thin smile, then looked alarmed, bent sharply over as a tube slipped from his shoulder. He managed to catch its strap in the hook of his elbow as Carnelian rushed forward.
'Let me take some of those. Couldn't you have asked for some help?'
'I didn't want any.'
Together they wrestled everything to the floor, then stood not looking at each other.
'Isn't this place enormous?' said Carnelian, trying to make conversation.
Too big,' his brother muttered.
Carnelian nodded. There'd be room enough in just these apartments for much of the household.'
That was a mistake. Thoughts of the Hold soaked them both with misery.
Carnelian punched his brother's arm. 'Come on, I want to wash.' Tain started rummaging amongst the stuff on the floor. 'What're you doing?'
'Finding the pads.'
There's no need for those,' said Carnelian and began throwing off his clothes. Tain came to help. 'I'll undress myself. The way you smell you'd better strip as well.'
Tain looked puzzled but did as he was told.
Carnelian's painted skin was mouldering like old whitewash. He pulled the Little Mother amulet over his head, coiled the strap and put her down carefully. He went off to the chamber he had seen earlier with its channel of water, Tain following with awkward steps.
W
ith some experimenting and many accidents, Carnelian found out how to operate the various little bronze sluices. Soon he had created a number of crisscrossing waterfalls. Tain gaped. Carnelian crept behind him and shoved him in. Soon they were splashing round, screaming with the cold, letting the water spin rivulets through their hair. They gave themselves over to the delight. Both played with the sluices, pushing each other into any new deluge that erupted from above. They marvelled at the way the runnels in the floor kept the surface underfoot free from puddling. Tain rubbed the paint from Carnelian's skin. When they were both shivering clean, he ran out and found towels. While he waited, Carnelian turned all the water flow back into the channel running along the wall. Tain came up to dry him. Carnelian squeezed his hand when it came near and made Tain smile. It was good to see that.
Carnelian asked him to shave his head.
'Like the Master?'
'Like the Master.'
'But what if I cut you?'
'Well then, do it carefully.'
So Carnelian knelt at his feet while Tain first cut his hair almost to the roots with a knife and then scraped his scalp with a copper razor. Carnelian watched his brother working, his tongue held between his teeth. 'How are our people?'
Tain stopped, brushed a lock of black hair onto the floor, then gave him a sidelong glance. They're afraid.'
'Of what?'
'What's going to happen. And…'
Carnelian waited, looking down and playing with the hair that lay everywhere on the floor. He wanted to make it easy for Tain to say anything he wanted.
The killings… the killings on the boat. Everyone's rattled.'
'You as well?'
'What do you think?'
Carnelian relived the horror in his mind. The boy saw him pale and began nibbling the edge of his hand. 'It was my fault, Tain.'
'Maybe so. But there's other stuff. On the ship the lads heard things, sounds coming from the other cabins.'
'What sort of sounds?'
Tain's face creased up. 'Punishment sounds… other things… they're… we're afraid of the other Masters. And the Master, our Master, he's been behaving very strangely. The lads have even grown a little afraid of him.'
Carnelian felt a twinge of anger that they should dare judge his father. 'What can I do?'
'Keep an eye on them. You know they only live to serve you and the Master?'
The pleading in Tain's eyes melted Carnelian's anger. 'I know they do. Tell them that I'll do all I can.'
Tain beamed. ‘I told them you would, Carnie.' He made to kiss his hand, but Carnelian grabbed him instead and gave him a hug. They let go of each other.
'Now get on with my head.'
Together, they had stood on the balcony watching the sparks light up in the black valley all the way up the road. 'Like a river of stars,' said Tain in wonder. He turned to Carnelian who stood like an ivory carving beside him. 'Did you see the Master of this place, Carnie?' 'Yes.'
'Does he have a legion?' 'I'm not sure. Perhaps…'
Tain's eyes opened very wide. He reached out to touch Carnelian's arm. 'Do you think there're dragons here?'
Carnelian shrugged. T don't know.' It made him wonder himself.
Tain went inside and drew back the feathered blankets to sprinkle perfume on the linen sheets. Then he took a blanket and began to make himself a bed with it on the floor. Carnelian told him he could sleep with him in the bed. The floor's of stone. You'll have frozen to death by the morning and then what use will you be?'
In the darkness Carnelian nesded into his brother's warm back. He could feel the bumps down his spine. They had not slept in the same bed since they were infants.
'Do you think we'll see dragons?' whispered Tain. 'I'm sure we will,' Carnelian replied. 'Now go to sleep.'
RANGA SHOES
The Chosen shall not set foot on earth, nor stone, nor any other ground outside Osrakum that has not first been purified in the manner prescribed.
(extract from the Law-that-must-be-obeyed)
'Carnie. Carnie.'
Carnelian woke and had no idea where he was. The Master has sent for you.'
It was Tain with an intense dark gaze. Carnelian sat up and swung his feet onto the floor. He rubbed his face, knuckled his gummy eyes, then stood up shakily. He lifted his arms out to the sides and screwed up his face in anticipation of the cold touch of the pad.
Tain pushed Carnelian's arms down gently. 'I was told not to clean you.'
'Sorry?'
'You are to go as you are.'
Carnelian stared at his brother, confused.
Tain chuckled. 'Well, not exactly as you are. You're to wear this.' His chin nudged a black garment draped between his outstretched arms.
Carnelian bent forward to allow Tain to feed it over his arms and head. Tain stroked it smooth then did up its spine of hooks. Carnelian yawned. He ran his palms down over the crusty brocades. 'What sort of robe is this?'
Tain shrugged. Annoyance pushed its way through Carnelian's sleepiness. He lifted up some of the black cloth, peered at it, traced its patterns of glassy beads with a finger. He felt he should be able to read them. He could not. He shook his head and let the cloth drop.
Tain led him out from his chambers. Carnelian felt unwashed, naked without his paint as he walked out into the great hall where the blue canopies were billowing. Doors were open, leading off in a long succession to the predawn sky. His people were face down on the mosaic. Tain joined them there. A door hissed open with an exhalation of lily. His father appeared, narrow, tall, his face fearfully white, clad in an identical black robe. Someone with eyes averted handed his father his mask and he hid his face like the moon behind a golden cloud.
'See,' his father commanded.
Their people looked up and then rose to their knees. Keal and the other guardsmen began rising to their feet.
We go alone, his father signed, using the Lordly 'we'. He paced towards the outer door. Carnelian fell in behind him, scratching an itch on his head, startled when he touched stubbled scalp. He had forgotten the shaving. The hard edge of his mask pushed into his hand. He smiled his gratitude at Tain, put it on, then followed his father's back, watching the black samite bunch and loosen with each pace. The doors rumbled open and they passed into the gloomy hall beyond.
They walked down the centre of the hall. At the end was a tall door before which flames leaping in braziers were the only guards. Silver ammonites embossed the door like startled eyes.
'My Lord, why would the Legates use their legions against Osrakum?' asked Carnelian, feeling the need to almost whisper.
His father did not turn his head but kept his eyes fixed upon the door. The Legates and the commanders under them are all, naturally, of the Lesser Chosen. The God Emperor appoints them all. They serve the House of the Masks. It is their only source of wealth.'
'Because they are excluded from the division of the flesh tithe as well as the taxes from the cities?' said Carnelian.
His father nodded. 'Although they form no part of the Balance of the Powers, they hold in their hands almost all the military might of the Commonwealth.'
'And it is feared that they will take with force what the Three Powers would keep wholly for themselves?'
They had reached the door. Flames flapped like hands in spasm. Carnelian glanced up. Flickers of their light were trapped in each tarnished spiral.
'Quite so. We have taken many precautions against them, chief of these being that we hold all they possess and care for within the Sacred Wall of Osrakum.'
'But if they have the legions…?'
The Great have the double-strength legion, the Ichorian, and with this we hold the Three Gates into Osrakum.'
'Would it not be safer to include the Lesser Chosen within the franchise of the Great?'
His father looked down at him. Then the legions would be ours and the Balance would be broken.'
'Could Legates not be appointed from the House of the Masks itself?'
&nb
sp; 'No-one of the Imperial Power can ever be permitted even to cross the Skymere to its outer shore. If ever that happened, and they managed to escape Osrakum, they could use the legions to overthrow us and again the Balance would be broken.'
Carnelian gaped. 'What you are saying, Father, is that those of the House of the Masks are prisoners of the Great.'
His father was eyeing the gloomy length of the hall. 'Say, rather, hostages.'
The Great hold the God Emperor Themselves hostage?'
'As They in turn use their legions to hold us hostage in Osrakum. That is the Balance.'
'And how do the Wise form part of this Balance?'
They are the Law made flesh. Inside Osrakum they constrain the freedoms of all the Chosen. Outside, they maintain the roads with their watch-towers and the left-ways with their couriers. Though blind, there is nothing in the Three Lands they do not see. Additionally, it is their ammonites that form a seal across the Three Gates. They keep the inner and the outer worlds apart and form the only bridge across the divide. It is only at their sufferance that we ourselves are permitted to be here, outside Osrakum.'
The Balance must restrict their power?'
'In terrible ways, but essentially the God Emperor's guardsmen, the Sinistral Ichorians, hold them hostage.'
'And we, in turn, hold them all hostage.'
'Rings, within rings, like the ripples on a pond.'
'Moving outwards from the God Emperor, a leaf dropped from the sky.'
'Just so.'
'Father, are these quaestors then the Wise?'
His father's hand flicked a dismissive gesture. 'Of the Wise, Carnelian, but not the Wise themselves. Surely, if you noticed nothing else, you could see the quaestor still had eyes?'
'Of course… I was careless. What manner of…?'
'A failed candidate for the Wise, though he came so close that I marvel that he kept his eyes. I was not able to examine his face fully but it seemed to me that he had passed many of the higher examinations.'
The numbers?'
Their positions relate to the different lores, levels, domains.'
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